Page 20 of Brainwashed
Doesn’t he understand I didn’t have a choice??
The shower experience is one of the more unpleasant ones I’ve been a party to. Velle takes it upon himself to spray me down with a hose, and while I’m grateful for the cleaning of sorts, it’s fucking freezing and he’s taking way too much joy in watching me suffer.
But something tells me my true suffering is still on the horizon…
Once I’m dry and in fresh clothes, Velle brings me down a bunch of long corridors, and when we begin passing doors that contain padded cells, I know we’ve entered the infamous East Wing.
Now, I’m not privy to all of the gossip that infests the halls of Alabaster Penitentiary. I don’t get to be around inmates often, and when I am, I’m never close enough to actually speak to them. Still, the guards talk around here.
Maybe they think we don’t understand what they’re saying? Or maybe they think it doesn’t matter what they say in front of us because it could never lead to anything… Who knows. But either way, being that there’s no other form of entertainment between these walls, listening to the guards is really like television for us damned souls. And believe it or not, they’re very entertaining.
I swear to God, the drama in this place is sometimes like watching an episode ofDegrassifrom Hell. There’s a lot to follow about the personal lives of the guards, who seem to be trapped on this island just as much as we are, except that they apparently get to live in a giant, fancy mansion across the isle. Just for that fact alone, I can’t feel too bad for them, even if I could feel bad, which I can’t.
I mean, they live in amansion. And I haven’t eaten anything more than my own fingernails in almost five business days.I know, it’s gross. Let’s move past it, please.
But aside from thehe screwed her and he screwed him and he screwed her while screwing himnonsense I hear from the guards of the Pen, the more interesting things I’ve picked up on are about the spot I find myself in right now… The East Wing.
Just from the look alone, this place is causing me to gulp a little harder than usual. A long winding row of padded cells, large metal doors in front of them with only a small plexiglass window at the top, sort of like in solitary. As we pass, I try sneaking a peek inside to see if anyone’s in there, but Velle’s dragging me too fast. Once we reach the end of the long corridor, the rooms begin to look different. There are plexiglass windows on either side of the door this time, and when I peer inside, I see a sort of doctor’s exam chair, only with arm, leg, and neck shackles on it.
And I’m sure they’re used for completely reasonable medical practices…
But before I can begin to internally obsess about what they could do to me in these strange exam rooms, I catch a glimpse of someone inside one. A dark-haired, pale-skinned person I haven’t seen in months…
Is it him??
I skid, trying to get a better look, but Velle kicks my leg until I stumble.
“Move, asshole,” he growls at me, though I’m still busy gaping inside the room at the Irishman.
He’s sitting on the floor of the room with his head in his hands, but I know it’s him. I can tell from his tattoos, and his hair, and the air of loathsome depravity surrounding him like an aura.
Without even thinking, I mutter, “He’sin here?”
Velle huffs and shoves me inside the door of the adjacent room. “Yea, so what? You got a crush on him or something?”
He chuckles to himself, but now I’m just staring at him blankly.If he only knew…
The fact that this Irish guy is now here, in the East Wing, in the cell right next to me, feels like some sort of kismet. Something that wasmadeto happen…
There are no coincidences, after all. And I’ve been thinking about him since that first time I saw him, in the cafeteria months ago. I haven’t forgotten his words…
I’m nothing like you.
Goosebumps sheet my flesh, and I shift on my feet while Velle removes my cuffs and shackles. “Look, #89, I don’t care about your comforts, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re in here now. I’d try to get some rest while you can. Because as soon as they show up… well, let’s just say you’re in it for the long haul.”
I hear Velle’s words, but still, I can’t stop staring at the wall that separates me and the unusual Irish guy. It’s interesting that I keep sharing walls with people who captivate me so easily and so… thoroughly.
I should be nervous about what Velle’s saying… I don’t know whotheyare, but I’m sure I won’t like them.
Still, the only thing I can seem to focus on is the concrete slab now separating me from the Irishman, who’snothing like me. The man with anarchy in his limbs and wretched pain in his eyes.
I’m going to find out his name.
Velle releases an irritated breath and leaves me fidgeting in place, closing the door and locking it behind him. His brutish, clunky footsteps echo off the walls as he leaves, but all the while, I’m just gawking.
Slowly, I wander closer and take a seat on the floor, sitting cross-legged, facing the wall. I place my hand up to it, remembering how I did so many times over the past few days with Dash.
Will this guy be my new Dash?
